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Date Posted: 06:49:15 03/12/01 Mon
Author: jan oskar hansen
Subject: the hidden

The Hidden


It's not the visible roots, those
Above ground which can easily
Be chopped off, that haunts me.
It's the invisible threads,
The emotional cobweb that
Catches and draw me nearer to
A cold Nordic land. The screams
Of barefoot anguish in the snow,
The smell of poverty where
The abuser and the abused are
Joined together by a common
Despair, trapped in a circle of needs.
…And the child seeks escape in
Dreams of endless summers where
A Santa Claus's evil mask and
Foul breath is banned. Where no
Windows are broken and no Yule
Tree is trampled into city slush.
…But I do remember a summer lake
Where I swam in lucidity and that
Was not a dream.

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